Unprodigal Daughter
by BeautifulDreamer11
Summary: Annabelle Wagner is a Soc, surrounded by people with money and success, but don't for a second think she enjoys it. Her overbearing mother and persistent sadness make her life a living hell. After a lifetime of feeling trapped on the West side, a series of unlikely events leads her to right into the lives of notorious hood Dallas Winston and his gang. Now her life can begin.


"Annabelle!"

Upon hearing her mother call through her bedroom door, Annabelle Wagner rolled her eyes. She sat up in the middle of her bedroom floor, where she had been sprawled out just a second before.

"Annabelle! For the love of God, turn that garbage off! It isn't good for any of us."

Dammit. Standing up indignantly, she walked over to the record player in the corner of the room. She thought she had been playing the music quietly enough that her mother wouldn't hear, but apparently not. She turned the volume down as low as possible, ensuring that only she could hear The Kinks'_You Really Got Me _floating through the air. The record was one of her favorites, much to her mother's disdain. All was well and good when she'd loved the same teeny-boppers as all the other girls her age, but once she'd discovered rock and roll, she'd practically been accused of delinquency. Of course, that wasn't the only reason.

She was pulled from the trance of the music by a loud, aggravated knock on her bedroom door. Groaning internally, she pulled the needle from her record player and opened the door only as much as she had to.

"Look at you! Do you see what time it is? We're going to be late." Judy Wagner pushed the door open and burst into the room like a whirlwind. A very put-together, well-to-do whirlwind. Annabelle looked at her mother's sensible outfit with her sensible shoes, her dark brown hair oh-so sensibly pulled into an updo. Just the sight of it exhausted her.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, the girl replied, "Mrs. Callahan said lunch wasn't starting until eleven."

"That isn't even an hour from now, Annabelle. We can't just be on time. We have to be early, and Lord knows you've been lazing around this room enough lately. You need to get up and get out."

"Okay," Annabelle mumbled, bunching the skirt of her nightgown in her fists. Before she knew it, she was looking down at her hands and nervously picking at her cuticles.

Judy reached out and grabbed her daughter's hands. In any other circumstance, it would've been seen as a loving gesture, but for Annabelle, it felt the opposite. Her stomach sank even further as her mother gave her hands a squeeze and looked at her with a smile.

"Wear the blue dress. The new one. And remember, wear-"

"A sweater. I know."

As the woman closed the door behind her, Annabelle fought the tightness in her chest. It was a familiar feeling, and nothing brought it out more than her mother's demands. She flopped down on her bed, wishing like hell that she didn't have to get up. Her bones felt heavy. Her head felt heavy. Her eyelids felt heavy. Everything was much too heavy.

* * *

"What are you doing?!"

The girl bolted upright. Shit. She'd fallen asleep. She was in for it now. How much time had passed? According to the clock, it had only been about fifteen minutes, but Judy's reaction made it seem like longer. Her eyelids drooped as the sound of her closet being opened invaded her ears. Her mother practically ripped the pale blue dress off the hanger before shoving it into her hands.

"Get dressed and get yourself put together. Now."

This time, Annabelle had no choice but to obey. Once her mother left her room for the second time that morning, she wearily pulled her nightgown off over her head, slipping on the dress and some heels. She truly despised wearing heels, but she had no other choice. Her mother had made her get rid of all but one of her pairs of flat shoes not long after she graduated high school. Girls wore Mary Janes, Judy had said. Women wore heels. It had been over a year since then, and so far, she didn't like being a woman one bit.

That particular thought gnawed at her as she did her hair and makeup at the vanity. She certainly didn't feel like an adult. In fact, it was possible she had less freedom as an adult than she'd had when she was in school. At least then she'd had a good six hours away from her mother every day, even if she did spend quite a few of those hours hiding in the bathroom. The heaviness in her bones weighed her down as she thought about her high school days.

Now she felt more like her mother's doll than she ever had. Life was an endless stream of garden parties and bridge games, cleaning the house and cooking. Whatever Judy did, she brought Annabelle right along with her. The teen had shown no desire to go to college after barely limping her way through high school, and her parents hadn't argued. They believed the only reason a young woman would go to college was to meet a husband, and they had other ways of making sure that happened, like that day's lunch, for instance. All she needed was her mother's guidance, and that's what she received damn near 24 hours a day.

Her hair and makeup complete, Annabelle gave herself a final once-over. She had expertly covered the bags under her eyes, which had persisted despite her sleeping at every opportunity. Her rosy pink lipstick perfectly complemented her skin tone, and her hair was just so. Everyone had always said that her hair looked exactly like her mother's. They both had dark brown tresses so thick that the women at the salon said they would never have to worry about it thinning out. It was beautiful, but the older the teenager got, the more she resented it.

Annabelle pulled herself from the mirror and had almost made it out of her bedroom before stopping in her tracks. Turning back, she pulled a simple white cardigan from her closet and made her way downstairs, wishing she didn't have to go to lunch that day.

* * *

Annabelle sat in the passenger seat of the car, numbly looking out the window as Lorraine's loomed up ahead.

"Well, here we are," Judy said as she put the car in park.

Lorraine's was the go-to lunch spot for every housewife on the West side of town. The food was good enough, but a person could only eat so much soup and salad and tiny little sandwiches. As the two walked into the restaurant, Judy provided her daughter with her familiar motherly advice.

"Now remember, don't order anything heavy. No elbows on the table. Sit up straight. Small bites. You are very lucky that we were able to get the time for you and David to meet while he's home from school, and no man wants a girl without any manners."

Annabelle nodded, lips pursed, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her cardigan.

"Annabelle, am I understood?"

"I nodded."

Her mother glanced at her, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Speak to me when I speak to you, Annabelle. That's how people do things."

"Okay."

She really wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone at all. She didn't care about David Callahan, the boy she'd met less than a handful of times when they were only kids, or his mother. She didn't care about eating light or sitting up straight. She wanted to be at home in bed, and tears pricked her eyes at the thought. Quickly blinking them away, she forced a smile as she approached the table where Mrs. Callahan and David were seated.

"Judy, Annabelle. How great to see you! It's been ages, hasn't it?"

"It really has. How was your Thanksgiving? Ours was just lovely." Judy replied, and the two set off making small talk.

Mrs. Callahan was even more put-together than Annabelle's mother. Her clothes were just a little nicer, her hair just a little more elegant. It made sense, seeing as she was married to her father's boss, but the opulence made the teen's stomach turn. Didn't these women ever get tired of lording their wealth over each other, of doing everything they could do to look and live better than everyone around them? Didn't they get tired of pretending their shit didn't stink? Her very bones ached as she sat down next to David.

"Annabelle, do you remember my son, David? You two made quite the little couple at company picnics way back when."

"Yeah, sure. Hi," she replied softly.

David flashed her a pearly white smile. "Hi."

He was good looking, she'd give him that. His eyes were a gentle kind of green, and his sandy blond hair was perfectly gelled, not one out of place. He was a classic, all-American boy. The scent of expensive cologne wafted towards her, and even though it smelled good, she had to fight to keep from wrinkling her nose.

"He's been hard at work at Northeastern University. Truth be told, I wish he was closer than Boston, but it really is an excellent school." Mrs. Callahan smiled wide, eager to show off her son's credentials.

Boston. Annabelle could only imagine living in Boston, or anywhere besides Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her family made trips to their home in New York every summer, but other than that, she'd rarely left town. She'd certainly never been anywhere without her parents. Every moment of her life had been spent under her mother's watchful eye and her father's stern indifference.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the waitress came to take their orders. Feeling her mother's eyes on her as her turn arrived, she ordered a salad and averted her gaze.

Annabelle spent the rest of the meal in a state of disconnect. Snippets of conversation flew in one ear and out the other, the words barely registering in her brain.

"You have a son, don't you? What's he up to these days?"

"Oh, George lives in Oklahoma City now with his wife and their new baby."

Her brother was the family golden child--25 years old, successful, and content. He was better to her than her parents were, but he was exactly what they had always wanted him to be, a feat she would never accomplish.

Her salad tasted like paper in her mouth, and each swallow felt stuck in her throat on the way down. She poked and prodded at the leaves with her fork as her stomach churned. Then, she heard the words that made it drop.

"And your mother, how is she doing? I remember seeing her at a few company picnics as well."

A chill radiated through Annabelle's body.

"Unfortunately, she passed away about ten years ago."

"Twelve." Everyone at the table turned to look at Annabelle as she spoke for the first time since greeting David nearly an hour earlier. "It was twelve years ago."

"That's such a shame. I imagine that was hard, since she lived with you and all. Do you miss your grandmother, dear?" Mrs. Callahan used the same proper, matter-of-fact, almost lifeless voice that her mother did. It made her want to scream. How could they be so nonchalant, as if it was a slight inconvenience, a favorite dress being torn or the washing machine breaking?

Did she miss her grandmother? That was damn near the stupidest question she'd ever heard. Grandma Alice was the only person who'd let her wear jeans to run around and play outside. She was the only person who'd sit in front of the record player and listen to music with her, getting up to dance at her favorite songs. She would always crack jokes to get the little girl to stop crying after being yelled at by one of her parents. The woman was sick, and would often be stuck bedridden for weeks at a time. However, when she was able to be up and about, she was never far from her granddaughter's side. In a world where everyone made Annabelle feel too loud, too wild, wrong, bad, and out-of-place, Grandma Alice was her one true solace. No one else had ever made her feel like she was perfect just the way she was. When her grandmother finally succumbed to her illness, the seven-year-old was left alone with no choice but to fend for herself.

Annabelle's chest began to tighten, the air unable to fill her lungs. As she fought for breath, her hands trembled, and she felt Mrs. Callahan's expectant gaze on her. She felt like if she stayed in that damn restaurant any longer, she would die.

"Yes," she choked out finally. In a daze, she uttered, "I'm going home now."

She numbly stood up from the table and walked out of the restaurant, paying no mind to her mother's barely contained protests.

* * *

"What is wrong with you?! Just what is wrong with you that you think you can pull a stunt like that?!" Judy nearly screamed at her daughter.

Annabelle had walked out of Lorraine's, and, since her mother wouldn't dare ruin her reputation by doing the same, she had been able to walk all the way home without being followed.

"I'm tired. I was tired."

"Tired? You were tired? He was such a nice boy, Annabelle! He could've been great for you!"

"Well, I sincerely apologize. I know how much you care about what's good for me." The girl's words were cold and dripping with sarcasm.

Annabelle gasped as her mother slapped her across the face, hard. Her stomach twisted and turned, a combination of fear and white-hot anger flowing through her. She balled her hands into fists an attempt to keep them from shaking. Breath short and ragged, she looked up at Judy with an icy glare. She said nothing.

"Go to your room," the woman said, voice shaky, upset but too proud to apologize, "and don't come out until dinner is ready."

No need to tell her twice. Annabelle turned on her heel and bolted up the stairs, not slowing down until she slammed her bedroom door behind her. She collapsed on the floor, bursting into tears. It was bullshit. All of it was pure, utter bullshit. She was trapped, always being scrutinized, never able to just breathe. She was a prisoner in this big, picturesque fucking house. There was no way out.

Shaking profusely, she crawled over to her vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was running, her eyes were puffy and red, and her hair... dear god, her hair. One look at that hair and Annabelle could see her whole future. She would be stuck marrying some nice young man who had a good job but no substance. She would live in a house no different than the one she lived in now. She would pop out a couple of kids, and her whole world would revolve around them as long as she wasn't cooking or cleaning or playing bridge. It would always be the same thing she'd always known. She would never leave Tulsa. There was no way out. She just sat there, tears spilling over as she looked at her hair, at _her mother's _hair. Annabelle knew she had no choice but to end up exactly like her. No way out.

God that stupid fucking hair. She hated it. She wanted nothing to do with her mother, but she was doomed to wear her mother's hair around on her head every fucking day. No way out. No way out. No way out.

No. Fuck that. She'd just force her way out. Slowly but surely, she opened the vanity drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

_Snip._

It was like she was outside of her own body.

_Snip._

It was too late to stop now.

_Snip._

Dark brown hair fell all around her as she snipped away indiscriminately. Before she knew it, the job was done.

Annabelle looked at herself in a daze, buzzing with adrenaline. She couldn't believe what she had done. Glory, she practically looked like a boy, and for a moment, she was filled with dread. Then, slowly, it was replaced with fiery defiance. She didn't care what her mother would say. She didn't care what anyone said. Nothing mattered anymore. There was no more room for keeping up appearances. She smiled grimly at reflection before kneeling beside her bed.

She reached under her mattress and pulled out a joint and a box of matches. Annabelle forced the window open, letting the cool November air in. Still trembling, she lit the joint, stuck her head out the window, and smoked while watching the puffs disappear into the evening sky.

* * *

**A.N. - Hey, y'all. I hope you're excited to see what happens next because I'm really excited to write it. Usually when I write fics, I have a lot of songs in my head that encapsulate what's going on in the story. I figured I would share them all with you, one song that sums up each chapter. This time around, the song is _Nobody's Home _****by Avril Lavigne, hence why the chapter title is Nobody's Home. Anyway, please leave a review if you like what you see so far!**


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